The Clouded Messenger
by High Crystal Guardian
Summary: A new point of view on Big Brother and the Party; this is the story "1984" from a whole new perspective, as told by Mr. Charrington, of the Thought Police...


Hello all. Yes, yes, I know you all want me to update _Negative Chaos _with chapter 12, or perhaps _Small Troubles _with chapter 6. I'm working on both of them right now, trust me. I had a little bit of a…loss of inspiration, I guess we could say…for both of them, but I'm trying to get as much done with each one as I can. 

In the meantime, _this _is something else I thought I'd post. It actually was originally an essay due for my Modern British Literature class, which was the concluding paper after we read the book _1984_, by George Orwell. In the essay, you were supposed to write the book from a different character's point of view. I wrote _this _from the point of view of Mr. Charrington, the Thought Police agent who turned in Winston and Julia after they had been renting a secret room for some time (anybody who's read the book should know what I'm talking about). My English teacher enjoyed it incredibly, and told me I had great writing talents (*insert sarcasm* Gee, I wasn't aware of _that_). Nevertheless, I thought it deserved to go up on FF.net as a showcase of my abilities in an area _other _than Yu-Gi-Oh! So, without further adieux, let's get straight to the A+ story/essay, shall we? Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own _1984 _or any of its related characters. It all belongs to George Orwell. Yay George Orwell!

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The Clouded Messenger

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"It is far better to have unanswered questions then to have unquestioned answers."

~Anonymous

Thought criminals.

The very idea of them makes me sick to my stomach, cringing that somebody would wish to betray Big Brother so terribly that they would think against him, speak against him, even _act _against him. It has always been beyond my reasoning. Why would anybody betray the beauty of Big Brother? 

I despised all thought criminals, and it was my dream to stamp thoughtcrime out of our perfect society. Only when traitors stopped defiling Big Brother's glorious name and leadership could I truly be happy. 

No…I would not be happy. Big Brother, the glorious Big Brother, would be happy. And if I had done something to make him happy, then I had done my duty as a Comrade. That was my one true goal.

It was because of this dream that I began to work towards ultimately serving Big Brother. I would do better than anyone else, following his orders; I would love him the most; I would make him proud of me as a father is of his son. As a big brother is of his younger sibling. As a Big Brother. It would be perfect.

When I was younger, I was a sharp little boy, as I was brought up to be. A good member of the Spies, I was, and learned to spot thoughtcriminals a mile away. My achievements were top of the charts, just as I wanted them to be, just as I fixed them to be. I turned in at least ten, perhaps even fifteen traitors, men who served Goldstein, men who were Eurasian, men who had had thoughts against the glorious Big Brother. I turned in my own father when he spoke against the beautiful Big Brother when he thought the telescreen and I could not hear him. I was a perfect child, brought up just the way Big Brother wanted.

And then…they finally asked for my help. When I was nearing the end of my years as a teenager, the Ministry of Love came to me. Not to bring me in as a thought criminal; oh no, I was too perfect for that. They came to request that I join the _Thought Police._

My joy was limitless. Big Brother…he had bestowed this blessing on me! Big Brother, through the actions of the Ministry of Love, was choosing _me! ME!_ He wanted me to help him! I felt that nothing could tear the love of Big Brother from my heart; indeed, I felt as if I was almost unworthy of such a beautiful offering. But if Big Brother wanted me to aid him in the endless battle to wipe thoughtcrime from Oceania, than I would do nothing to stand in his way. I was his servant, I would do as he asked me to, I would do my duty to Big Brother and always follow his lead, no matter where it would put me.

At first, my life as a member of the Thought Police was simple, yet I enjoyed it with a fierce sense of pride, a feeling--no, a _realization_--that I was doing my duty, that I was doing what I was meant to do. I was one of the comrades that would enter the traitors' Mansions and Condominiums, along with a few Comrade Thought Police agents, in the dead of night to bring the thought criminals to Miniluv. Ah, it is impossible to understand the wonders of such a job! I loved it _almost _as much as I loved Big Brother. To see the terrified expressions on the faces of the thought criminals as we entered what they thought was their haven…to announce to them that we would escort them to Miniluv…to tell them that they would once again find their true love of Big Brother…and when they fought, to cause them pain to teach them not to defile Big Brother's name with their treacherous thoughts. 

My job as a Thought Police Comrade lasted…what I am sure is years, but my ability to sense the passage of time is weak, I am afraid. What does it matter? Big Brother says I do not need to know time, so I shall not fear; I know he is always in the right, and no matter how hard I try I will never truly understand what he wants. I only know that his way is perfect and that I have nothing to fear by following him.

But my story…yes, yes. My position as Thought Police Comrade lasted some time, but finally, once again the Ministry of Love came to me. They knew of my devotion to Big Brother, and asked me if I was ready to take the next step for him. Without a doubt, I was…I loved Big Brother and would do anything for him. And so I was given my next assignment.

Some Party members, I was to understand, were not of their right mind mentally. This I had experienced before from my time as a comrade of the Thought Police, and this I knew. But some were taking farther steps. Not only did they think against Big Brother, they took actions against him, broke his very rules that he made for their own personal lives. Was I willing, they asked, to help catch such vile people? 

Yes! I had answered. They told me it would be a difficult journey, but I would die for Big Brother if he asked me to do so. 

And so began the process. There was a very delicate case that Miniluv was currently watching; a case concerning an Outer Party member, 6079 Smith W. His memory was exceedingly faulty--it astounded me to hear that he actually thought we had been at war with _Eastasia _four years ago! 

The case was delicate for a reason. 6079 Smith W's memory problems were a danger to society--if he somehow discovered a way to begin spreading his tales about the nonexistent past in his own head…it was an absolutely vile thought that I shuddered to think about. In order to catch him, very careful means would have to be taken--we could not take him to Miniluv too early or we could damage something and cause Big Brother more troubles. And the idea of causing Big Brother problems…I would _never _do that, _never. _Never would I betray him. 

The process I was put through was indeed exceedingly difficult. 6079 Smith W would be attracted to places that the proles lived in, places that the Outer Party members deemed 'safe.' It made me laugh to think that they actually believed there was a haven from Big Brother. Big Brother can see everything, he will always catch thoughtcrime in the end, always. 

But in order to keep an eye on 6079 Smith W, we would need to have one of our own Thought Police Comrades in the sector, in a position so _un_like the Thought Police that the traitor would never think we were there. I would be the Comrade to fit this position, but in order to do this I would have to become a _changeperson…_a comrade assuming a different identity and guise for an extended period of time. 

I underwent training to become an effective changeperson. I had to be able to act like a proletarian, yet at the same time my loyalties to Big Brother had to be unmistakably clear. I could not allow the lifestyle of the proles to change me, make me falter in my duties, nor would I be allowed to let the ideas of the traitor 6079 Smith W have any effect on me. To test my loyalty, Miniluv put me through much pain, hoping to see that my loyalties would not change despite my conditions. I passed perfectly; nothing would ever, ever change my opinion of Big Brother. I am loyal _only _to Big Brother. 

With my training completed, I was ready to observe, and soon catch, 6079 Smith W. I took possession of a proletarian shop, a shop full of old fantasy things that did not really have any purpose for Big Brother. I despised the shop and its useless trinkets from the beginning, but endured it because of my duty. With my place readied, I waited under my changeperson guise of Mr. Charrington. 

I did not have long to wait. Within nearly a week, the traitor came to "my" shop, looking very nervous and yet somehow determined. I learned his name was Winston from the conversation I started up, in my attempts to act like a prole. He did not linger long, staying only to buy a curious little book of blank pages, which had been in the window since I acquired the shop. It was an item called a diary; it was used to write down one's thoughts. It was a log of thoughtcrime! The very thought of it made me cringe, and the very idea that this…_Winston…_was buying it to record his thoughts against Big Brother made me seethe, but I hid my true feelings on the matter to act my part. I would not be caught so early. 

I did not see him again for some time, but I did not worry. Now that he had established his place of…"safety"…he would return, I was sure of it. He did not even realize I was watching him, the fool. He did not realize Big Brother was always watching him, through the eyes of the Thought Police…

He did return, just as I had predicted. He came back some time later, wandering into "my" shop, simply looking around while he waited for the right time to leave. I played my part as the old shopkeeper, muttering about the goods I had to sell, their ages, everything about them, but in reality I longed to leap on the dirty traitor and tear him to pieces. How _dare _he have thoughts against the glorious Big Brother! How _dare _he!

In the end, he bought some strange little trinket with a piece of…I think it was called coral…inside of it. I made up some nonsense about it having been around for a hundred years, and the fool bought it, looking rather excited. It only marked him in my mind as a further traitor. Big Brother had no use for people that thought such useless trinkets were worth something. He would die, I reassured myself, he would die soon after we showed him the true way. He would die loving Big Brother.

Before he left, I did as I was commanded by the Miniluv officials…I left 6079 bait to draw him back later. Bringing him up to the second floor of the shop I had acquired, I showed him a very old, ancient looking room, with a bedstead, mattress, and other items inside of it. All of it would have been forbidden by Big Brother, and I felt guilty pretending to "own" it, but reassured myself that it was necessary for this false truth in order to draw the traitor in. 

There was also a painting on the wall. I happened to know that a telescreen had been set up behind it, and that the painting was screwed tightly to the wall. Although the telescreen would not _see _anything that happened in this room, it would _hear _it, Miniluv's way of listening to the traitors within when I could not eavesdrop. I noted that this _Winston _looked suspicious of the painting, and to divert his attention I had remarked that I could take it down if he wished for me to. This seemed to reassure him, and he declined, for which I was fortunate. If he had found out about the telescreen…then I would be undeserving of Big Brother, and would be worthy of the punishment that would have been in store for me.

But he did not. The past is not relevant. The past belongs to the Party, and I am but a simple comrade following its orders. I will leave that business to the Party and the glorious Big Brother and continue my narrative. 

After I showed this 'secret' room to 6079, he seemed pleased, as I had expected. Traitors always wish for a place that they think they are safe in. I was positive he would return, as was Big Brother's plan. Big Brother is intelligent beyond all means; he knew how this traitor would think. I am pleased to have been a part of such a plan.

It was several months before I saw this _Winston _again. I spent the time in the shop, acting the part of a prole, waiting impatiently until I would be of service to the wonderful Big Brother again. Some other proles came in, searching for items, and even a Party member or two looking for such things as razorblades (these comrades I noted for future notice, just in case), but 6079 did not return for a while.

I knew what was going on, however. On occasion members of the Thought Police would come to deliver information to me, so that I would be better able to prepare for the next time the traitor returned. Apparently, _Winston's _mental problems had been getting stronger, and he now had a girl with him that believed the same things as he. It looked as if Miniluv would now have two fallen comrades to bring back to love Big Brother. I could not wait until they were caught. Such scum should not walk the earth. 

When he finally returned, it was with the girl. I heard as they talked that her name was Julia. They wanted to rent 'my' upper room as their hideout, a place that they could spend time in each other's company. I was disgusted with the pair of them--how could they so openly defy the wonderful Big Brother?--but still acting as my changeperson identity, I charged them rent in order to use the room. 

They used it for a number of different things; this I know because I was charged with spying on them while they were in 'my' shop, and watching (or at least listening to) what the telescreen recorded. If I had been disgusted before, I was absolutely appalled now. Not only did they use the room to smuggle different foods into to eat of their own accord (_how _could they so bluntly throw aside the wonderful things Big Brother had given them?), but the two of them actually…it makes me feel sick to my stomach…they actually had _sexual intercourse _for purposes _other _than creating new children for Big Brother to take care of. 

I was charged with this job for ages. It was terribly difficult, acting as my changeperson identity when I felt like spitting in the traitors' faces or throwing a rope around their necks to hang them. _How _could they so easily defile Big Brother's wonderful, wonderful name? I could not fathom it. Some days, after they had visited, I would become so disgusted I would sit and simply utter Big Brother's name over and over, as it focused me, calmed me, helped me to endure the job for his sake. It was all for him that I was doing this, and I would help Big Brother, no matter how much I disliked the job.

And then finally…finally, it was time. We would catch them. Comrade O'Brien of the Inner Party had passed along the message that this _Winston _had taken the bait and was ready to be captured. I sent back to him a note containing the times that the pair of traitors would be in 'my' shop (they always notified me ahead of time so that they would be able to enter the room) and we prepared for that perfect, perfect day. 

And then it came. While the two were upstairs, Thought Police comrades showed up at the shop, prepared to enter the room and take the two prisoner. I removed my disguise, finally shedding my _changeperson _identity to return to my old self. 

The Comrades of the Thought Police went to work, crashing into the room above me, and I felt it was my time to enter and reveal myself for who I really was. As I walked up the stairs, I saw a pair of Comrades dragging the girl down them, bringing her to their transport vehicle so that they could bring her to Miniluv. Her face was the beautiful, sickly color of a person in pain, and she was doubled up as if somebody had hurt her stomach. It was the most wonderful sight in the world. She deserved what she got, after what she had done.

When I entered the room, only that _Winston _was left. He was surrounded by the Thought Police Comrades, hands on his head, looking very pale and scared. Another wonderful sight, to see the terror on his face. Yes, they all deserved it. Never again would they harm Big Brother's glorious name. 

I could see he recognized me for what I was, a member of the Thought Police. I grinned, gave the order, and within moments he had been knocked unconscious, a bloody welt on the back of his head as the means to that particular problem. The men dragged him out of the room, sending him on his way to Miniluv. 

I felt successful. I had done my duty for Big Brother. I had done what he wanted me to do. I had made him proud…

It shocked me when I felt a hand on my shoulder. O'Brien, a Comrade more respected than I, was standing behind me, nodding. 

"You did well, comrade," he spoke, voice quiet, yet strong. "Very well. You helped us to capture those two. They were causing quite a bit of trouble for Big Brother."

"I am glad to have served him fully," I said proudly, standing up straighter.

"Yes, yes. Very good." He gave me a flat look, which for some reason held me rooted to the spot. "Now. There is only one more matter to be cleared up."

"And that is?" I asked softly, glancing around the room. Did he want me to do something else to bring this case to a close?

"You, comrade," he answered. "You. You have been in the conditions of the Prole for too long now. You have been near two traitors who were at work against the Party and against Big Brother. Your mind will begin to corrupt and corrode, soon."

I was shocked. I had not thought of it this way. "And…and what do you plan to do about this problem?" I asked, voice soft, staring in awe at O'Brien.

"That would depend," he answered smoothly. "Who do you love more than life itself?"

"Big Brother!" I answered instantly, standing straight again. "I love Big Brother! I will never betray him!"

"Good," O'Brien said calmly. "Than there is nothing more that must be changed about you."

I was curious about this comment for a moment, before I heard the crack of a gun behind me, and felt a sudden shot of pain in the back of my head. I knew instantly that it was over for me as I collapsed to the ground on my chest, unable to move any longer. I was dying.

But I had done my duty. I had done…what I was supposed to do. I had never…never been the victim of thoughtcrime. I had always….always…always served. And I knew one thing for sure, as I floated off into the deepest darkness, lightless and not for me to escape….

_I…loved…Big Brother…_

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And there you have it, my _1984 _fanfiction and/or essay. Did you enjoy? I sure hope so. Do tell me what you thought of it, and review, please. Feedback is much liked, indeed indeed ^_~


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